


Fortuna Favet Callidus

by NachtofWalpurgis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark James Potter, Dark Potter Family, Death Eaters, Dubious Morality, F/M, Gen, Grindelwald's War, Knights of Walpurgis, Marauders' Era, Riddle at Hogwarts Era, Sane Tom Riddle, Slytherin James Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 11:37:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10740930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachtofWalpurgis/pseuds/NachtofWalpurgis
Summary: A looming conflict between light and dark is shrouded in shades of grey and the Potter heir must choose among loyalties both old and new. As he struggles to make his choices he knows one thing for certain, what every Potter is born knowing, that Fortune Favors the Cunning.An AU exploring the effects a traditionally Dark Potter family would have on the Harry Potter universe.





	Fortuna Favet Callidus

_**September 31st, 1927, Potter Cottage, Potterne Wick, Wiltshire** _

 

A sense of wholeness enveloped Fleamont as he watched his son gurgling with a gummy smile in his crib. He found a part of him that he didn’t know was missing until he met little Charlus. He leaned forward a bit, admiring how his son’s dark brown curls were growing out in a haphazard fashion.

 

_He inherited that much from me, at least…_

 

His son looked more Nott than Potter at this stage. If he hadn’t watched Charlus come out of Euphie with his own two eyes, he would have thought he and his cousin Theodore were twins. Not to say that he wasn’t pleased with the development. He hoped that they would grow to be close as brothers one day.

 

One of Charlus’ little hands reached out and pulled on his goatee. Fleamont was surprised at the strength behind the tug and barely suppressed a grimace. His face must have twitched, regardless, as Charlus giggled and his cloudy grey eyes widened with glee.

 

 _Just like his mother..._ _Always reveling in my discomfort..._

 

Charlus’ giggles were joined by teasing laughter from the doorway. “Only two moons old and already keeping you in line...” Her tone grew more morose. “...We should have tried for one sooner.”

 

Euphie entered the nursery still dressed in her bathrobe. Her auburn hair was, as of yet, uncombed and its current state mimicked Fleamont’s untamable black locks. He liked to think she left it unkempt until late morning in solidarity with his plight, but the workings of Euphemia’s mind were a mystery to most.

 

_Herself included..._

 

Charlus mercifully released his facial hair as he straightened himself to acknowledge his wife. “You know why we couldn’t do that, besides...I didn’t think you were ready, Euphie.”

 

“I was ready for a long time.” She lifted an eyebrow as she walked towards him across the dark, wood floors. “You just had to ask.” She put one arm around Fleamont’s shoulder and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as she joined him in standing over the baby’s crib. They spent a few seconds admiring Charlus before she continued.

 

“But I think we both know that wasn’t likely to happen...” She tilted her head to whisper in his ear. “...and I was tired of waiting.”

 

Fleamont’s heart both tightened and soared at her words. He felt suffocating guilt that he had wasted years of their marriage agonizing over what could have been, but also immense joy and comforting satisfaction that he had found love, if quite belatedly, in their arranged coupling. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer and gently pressing his lips to hers, hoping his actions could convey what he couldn’t find the words to say.

 

Judging by the soft smile on Euphie’s face as he pulled away, she understood. As they were about to continue their displays of affection, Charlus reminded them of his presence with an emphatic “Ehh!”.

 

Euphie chuckled as she separated herself from him to look down at their son. “He’ll be a great prefect someday; dragging couples out of broom closets with self-righteous zeal...”

 

Charlus was looking up at both of them with a curious expression that seemed oddly stern and mature. The infant’s composure wavered, however, when he was distracted by a rivulet of drool running down his chin.

 

“Charming,...” Fleamont drawled. He had never liked being around other people’s babies or children, but Fleamont loved his son, so he supposed that he would have to get used to it.

 

“Just like you, Flea.” She picked up Charlus and wiped his mouth with her sleeve.

 

Watching his wife fuss over their son, Fleamont relished the warm feeling in his chest as he experienced this brief moment of familial bliss. He was hardly surprised when the moment was interrupted by a light popping sound, marking the arrival of Tilly.

 

The small house elf apparated to the left of Fleamont. “There’s being a floo call for Master in his study.” the little creature spoke in a quiet voice as if torn between staying quiet and relaying important information.

 

_She’s still used to Father..._

 

Fleamont sighed in resignation. “Who is it from, Tilly?”

 

She tilted her head and twitched her ears slightly.“It is being from Mister Dumbledore, Master.”

 

_Great...Perfect timing as always, old friend…_

 

“What does he want?” Fleamont doubted that Albus, egalitarian tendencies aside, would leave any message to be relayed by a house elf, but one can always hope things can simplify themselves without intervention on his behalf.

 

_It’s never happened...but sooner or later it ought to…_

 

“He just said that he’d be wanting to talk to Master privately in his study. He wouldn’t be saying anything else to Tilly.”

 

Fleamont barely bit back a groan. Noticing Fleamont’s state of minor distress, Euphie took the initiative.

 

“Wonderful...I suppose it’s up to me to keep my brother occupied when he arrives, then?,” She asked him.

 

Fleamont gave her a firm nod in thanks. “Please do and floo ahead to tell him to come through the grate in the parlor, if possible.” As she placed Charlus back in his crib and walked out of the room, he turned his attention back to Tilly. “Let Albus through and offer him tea.”

 

Tilly nodded enthusiastically. “Will Master be wanting Tilly to take him to the study?”

 

“No, Thank you. I need time to clear my head anyway.” Fleamont also hated house elf apparition. It was impossible to apparate directly into or within the estate, so he had accepted Tilly’s assistance on a single unfortunate occasion to quickly access the library.

 

_Never again..._

 

Tilly left with a pop and Fleamont checked to make sure Charlus was comfortable. He found his son in a state of fitful sleep. Fleamont counted himself lucky that Charlus was an easy baby to take care of and tended to fall asleep even when a conversation was held in his midst.

 

As he left the room and headed towards his study, he tried to work through the possible reasons for Albus’ visit. The most obvious reason was, conversely, the least likely. He doubted Albus would have come alone if he knew anything of importance. A social call was equally unlikely. Although he no doubt considered Fleamont a friend, he would have to be either moronic or oblivious not to notice the strain on their relationship. Albus was, most assuredly, neither.

 

_Despite his odd proclivities..._

 

He opened the double doors to his study to find Albus sipping a cup of earl grey while lounging in the heavily upholstered chair opposite of Fleamont’s desk. His attire was downright conservative compared to his usual tastes, wearing flowing robes in an otherwise unadorned sickly shade of orange and forgoing his customary starry blue cap. “Ah, Flea, I do hope that I’m not interrupting any of your work.” He had a serene smile on his face; his default state unless something appropriately traumatic was occurring.

 

He doubted that Albus found the decor of the study very soothing. Few did. The room gave off an oppressive aura with exclusively dark hues, whether they be black, grey, or green, colouring the walls and furniture. Ancient artifacts, weapons, tomes and skulls of varying sizes littered the shelves. He had placed the cursed artifacts from previous generations of Potters in a more secure location, leaving the harmless, but still unsettling, objects in full view. It made for quite a macabre display, but its usefulness for satisfying clients from the old families could not be understated.

 

His ancestors were as fond of the color black as they were of the Dark Arts, as all of the exposed wood, with the exception of Fleamont’s desk, was ebony. The mantel of the fireplace was no different except for the carvings of snakes, large and small, woven throughout the wood, each one representing a patriarch of the family.

 

_Father’s will be the size of a flobberworm if he’s lucky…_

 

Each snake was carved by the son upon their fathers’ deaths. It was intended to be a stark reminder of the difference between pride and vanity, but as a student of his family’s history, he knew that his forefathers rarely took the lesson to heart. Directly above the mantel, a shield bearing the family crest of the House of Potter rested in front of two crossed, rusty swords. It was a simple but symbolic design: a large green snake with its fangs bared draped protectively over a white triangle on a dark grey field. Fleamont felt rather grateful that none of his predecessors thought it was a good idea to have a pot as their sigil.

 

_I always enjoy a good pun and canting arms are no exception, but a pot hardly strikes fear into one’s enemies…_

It was a testament to how often he visited over the years that Albus showed no discomfort at the decidedly morbid atmosphere and made himself at home. The frequency of his visits had been waning recently as they settled into their choice of careers and found that the things they had in common were slowly dwindling. They no longer had the deep sense of camaraderie that they once shared, but he considered Albus to still be one of his closest confidants.

 

Fleamont smiled at his friend. “Nonsense, Albus. Even if I was working, I would gladly tolerate an interruption...Even one’s passions can get tedious, given enough time.”

 

He moved his chair around his desk to rest directly across from Albus’, ignoring the rather large desk in the center of the room. He had never liked the desk in his study. Fleamont would have preferred something less ostentatious than the silver-embellished, polished mahogany monstrosity that currently sat there, but it was a family heirloom and it would be vain to part with it just because he was not particularly fond of it.

 

“Ah...I do so appreciate a good cup of tea.” Albus started with a grin, but his expression quickly turned serious. “You wouldn’t happen to have gotten any sherbet lemons since I last visited, have you? I’m afraid I’ve grown quite partial to them.”

 

Fleamont nearly snorted at the understatement. “I have not, but if you can honestly tell me you haven’t eaten one in the last hour, I’ll swallow my wand.” Fleamont held in his disdain at the prospect of his friend eating something made by muggles.

 

_How unsanitary..._

 

Albus shook his head. “My apologies to your digestive tract, but the last few months have been completely devoid of all things sweet.”

 

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t follow through on my promise, then,” Fleamont deadpanned hoping Albus would reach some semblance of a point soon.

 

“Of course, of course...Not all promises can realistically be kept, after all.” Albus’ face turned grim.

 

_Ah...So this is what it’s about then..._

 

“You can tell Longbottom that my answer is still no, and it won’t change just because he had you ask me.” Fleamont sighed. “I have no desire to join the department when I have my own business to run and a family to think about. You’re the one who made the promise, by the way. I merely said that I’d ‘try’ if I recall correctly.”

 

Albus didn’t even look surprised that he had sussed out the reason for his visit so quickly. They knew each other too well. “I understand, Flea. I really do; I broke the same promise, albeit for different reasons, but a favor is a favor and I had to make the attempt.”

 

Albus slumped slightly in his chair. “With recent events in America and his subsequent escape, you can understand why Harfang’s so eager to get his hands on as many good wizards as he can, especially ones who are familiar with the current threat.”

 

‘ _familiar with the current threat’...Heh...That’s rich coming from you, Albus…_

 

“It wasn’t so long ago that he espoused similar views to the ones of the man he’s trying to hunt down...,” Fleamont mused.

 

Albus interrupted swiftly. “He’s operating outside of the law, Flea. He’s shown that he has no compunctions about murdering wizards who get in his way and any deaths of muggles only brings him satisfaction.” Albus let out a long-suffering sigh. “I fear that any common ground that he and Harfang once shared is gone now.”

 

_You fear...I wonder...Are you merely lamenting the inevitability of conflict or do you still hold feelings for him?…_

 

Fleamont stroked his chin and found his gaze drifting to one of the smaller skulls hanging on the opposite wall. “We butt heads with Longbottom enough at Hogwarts to know that he doesn’t abandon his convictions easily, but he has to at least give the impression that he’s eager to do his job, especially now that he’s attempted to murder a British citizen...” He refocused on Albus who had slightly paled from his rosy complexion.

 

Albus wore a smile tinged with a considerable air of melancholy. “You never used to be this cynical...” He finished his tea with one last sip before continuing. “...but I can’t say that your assessment doesn’t have some degree of truth to it. It seems like he is only so zealous because it is his duty to be so.” His mouth was set in a thin line as he finished.

 

“How is young Scamander? Not too shaken, I hope.” He bore the lad no ill-will. If he recalled correctly, Brutus’ niece, Leta, was quite taken with him despite his questionable pedigree. It was unfortunate he ended up on the wrong side of Gellert’s wand.

 

Albus sighed, but his eyes held some measure of wistfulness as he continued. “I would be lying if I said he wasn’t affected, especially by the boy’s death. However, I think the greater part of him was rather pleased with his latest adventure, despite the inherent danger and tragedy of it.”

 

Fleamont smiled tightly. “I feel like I should be making some nostalgic commentary about the impetuousness of youth, but it would it would be disingenuous to portray our younger selves as such.”

 

Albus leveled a dubious glare at him. “We both had to mature before our time, given the circumstances, but we were hardly immune to reckless tendencies from time to time. One instance, in particular, comes to mind.”

 

_We agreed never to speak of it..._

 

“Albus…,” Fleamont started with a low growl creeping into his voice.

 

Before their tenuous friendship could be frayed further, He was startled by a crashing sound that caused him to jump out of his seat and grasp his wand. Fleamont relaxed and slid his wand back in its holster when he heard Euphie’s tinkling laughter from downstairs.

 

_Probably Thaddeus coming through the floo..._

 

Albus had not even moved at all and raised an eyebrow slightly at Fleamont’s jumpy reaction. “I expect such sounds are common in your home...considering Euphemia’s general disposition.”

 

Fleamont merely huffed in response as he eased back into his chair. Albus had Euphie as a student not too long ago and Fleamont would wager that she was responsible for a few of Albus’ gray hairs that now peppered his long auburn hair.

 

“How is she?”

 

“As energetic as ever. She plans to be back with the Harpies in a few months.” Quidditch was her life and Fleamont would be loath to part her from it.

 

“I expected as much.” Albus’ eyes twinkled with amusement and he had the beginnings of a smirk on his face as he said, “I doubt her father was pleased about that.”

 

Fleamont scoffed. “Yes, he certainly lived up to his name when we informed him of our collective opinion on the matter.”

 

Albus straightened his robe with a contemplative look as he got up from his chair. “Do you mind if I catch up with Thaddeus? It’s been a long time since I have had the pleasure.”

 

Fleamont led his friend out of the room, not surprised in the least at Albus’ deduction. Thaddeus’ clumsiness was notorious after all. “I doubt he shares your enthusiasm, but Euphie will enjoy having someone to assist with teasing her brother.”

 

Albus and Fleamont both attended Hogwarts in the same year and, despite their different houses, quickly formed a friendship. Thaddeus was two years below them and Fleamont took it upon himself to take the intelligent, if eccentric, boy under his wing in Slytherin. Despite sharing a mutual friend in Fleamont and both being endowed with a keen intellect, the two never got along. He put the blame purely on Thaddeus’ shoulders for that, as no one could say that Albus didn’t try, but his thirteen-year-old self was not the most tactful of wizards. All it took was one stray mudblood comment from Thaddeus to set Albus off on a diatribe lambasting blood prejudice. Thaddeus retaliated with uncouth vitriol and the rest was history.

 

_Their first argument got so heated that we weren’t allowed back in the library for a week...Pure torture for the both of them...quite fitting, actually..._

 

As they proceeded down the sparsely lit hallway, family portraits made snide comments deriding his friend’s fashion sense and blood status, often in the same breath, but Albus paid them no mind as he continued to prod. “Are you sure that you cannot spare any time to help him out. Even if you won’t join the department officially, Harfang will no doubt appreciate any help he can get in these dark times.”

 

_Appreciate it?...No, he believes himself entitled to it..._

 

Fleamont stopped dead at the top of the stairs, gripping the top banister to block Albus’ path. “I am far too busy to be running around at his beck and call, informal capacity or not.” He couldn’t keep the disdain off his face at the thought of being beholden to _Longbottom._

 

Fleamont considered himself to be a rather agreeable fellow. The hat _did_ offer him Hufflepuff after all and if it wasn’t for the fact that his father would have flayed him alive, he might have accepted. He got along with pretty much everybody during his school years and the few that he didn’t, he made up with in his adulthood.

 

 _Longbottom,_ however...was the exception. In any other circumstance, he would be the perfect friend for the up and coming Slytherin. A well-connected pureblood from an ancient and moneyed family, magically talented, and a firm believer in blood purity, but wise enough not to flaunt it.

 

_A rare trait…_

 

He was also a raging narcissist and that was a significant statement for Fleamont to make considering he was on good terms with Brutus Malfoy. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was a complete pillock with an ego the size of an erumpet and a temper to match, they might have hit it off.

 

_But, alas, it was not to be...Such a shame..._

 

It was no great loss, but he was annoyed that Albus befriended him so easily after their school years were done. Fleamont would not forgive Longbottom, nor would he forget all the trouble he put him through.

 

Albus tilted his head and gave him that disappointed look of his that doubtlessly made his students squirm. “But surely you can see the need to take action. At the very least understand the situation he’s in.” His friend’s mild glare gave him slight pause and, to his chagrin, a nagging sense of guilt.

 

Fleamont purged his thoughts and steeled his resolve. “I understand his situation as much as anyone, but it hardly means that I’ll comply, especially if it means hunting down a man I once called a friend.” He held Albus’ gaze with intent, hoping that he made himself perfectly clear.

 

Albus nodded. “I never expected you to agree. I certainly wouldn’t in your position, either.” Albus gave a sigh that was tinged with resignation and…

 

_...relief?..._

 

Fleamont gestured to continue down the stairs as he spoke. “Then I suppose we can move on to more cheerful topics?”

 

“That we can.” Albus nodded once more with a small smile before continuing with a twinkle of excitement in his blue eyes. “I haven’t yet had the pleasure of meeting your latest addition; would today be suitable?”

 

Fleamont returned his friend’s smile. “I think he’d be amenable.”

 

They stopped on the landing of the staircase and looked down on the parlor to find Euphie and Thaddeus drinking firewhiskey and engaging in an intense game of dragon’s breath. Judging by the four foot long blaze coming from Euphie’s mouth, she was winning.

 

The parlor’s atmosphere was light and airy in comparison to the rest of the cottage. That’s to say...not light and airy at all really, but certainly less dreary. How his ancestors found all the ebony wood to make the cottage in the fourteenth century was beyond him, but it made brightening up a room nearly impossible without resorting to color-changing charms or wallpaper, which quickly wore off or deteriorated if they weren’t an ‘acceptable’ shade thanks to the family magics that ran through the foundation to the walls, pillars, and floors. Fleamont was quite proud of his heritage, as any true pureblood should be, but he couldn’t help but want to give his forefathers a good what for sometimes for their complete lack of aesthetic flexibility. He would much prefer it if the building’s enchantments were directed towards a more practical purpose than restricting the interior’s color palate.

 

The walls of the parlor were covered in emerald green wallpaper, which the cottage apparently found tolerable. Six ebony pillars banked the entryways and were left unadorned except for the pewter fastenings to the floor and ceiling. A range of rugs and furniture with upholstery in shades of silver and grey were arranged throughout the room in the haphazard manner typical of Euphie’s interior designing prowess. The brightest aspect of the room was the white marble mantle of the central fireplace with the Potter crest embossed on the exposed marble chimney that extended to the ceiling.

 

Thaddeus’ back was to the new arrivals as he downed a shot of firewhiskey and let out a belch of his own, his flames only reaching out a foot. Euphie laughed and said something to him. It was no doubt a taunt of some kind, but Fleamont couldn’t make it out from the landing.

 

Albus let out a fond chuckle. “I’m half-tempted to join them.” He raised an eyebrow. “How did she convince her brother to go along with it? I thought he didn’t approve of her usual antics.”

 

Fleamont huffed. “I think he’s inclined to indulge her this time. Cantankerus isn’t getting any younger and Thaddeus ought to appreciate the freedom he has now before he’s burdened with the management of the family assets.” He was still a bowtruckle in the mud at times, but Thaddeus was loosening up to some extent as he aged and he hoped little Theodore would help him along in that.

 

Euphie looked utterly unrepentant and greeted them with a smile when they walked into the room. “Albus, How good of you to join us!” She got up from her seat on the sofa and gave him a hug which he tentatively returned.

 

She gave Fleamont a look over Albus’ shoulder that clearly conveyed. ‘ _What does he want?_ ’

 

He gave her an unconcerned shrug back to remove any undue worry, but he frankly had no idea what Albus wanted now that he had given him his staunch refusal.

 

_Or what he could possibly want from Thaddeus for that matter..._

 

Thaddeus cringed at his sister’s improper behavior and shot Fleamont a nervous glance as Albus smoothly, but awkwardly, removed himself from the embrace. “How could I resist when one of my favorite students was mere steps away?”

 

“Step back through the grate. That’s how,” Euphie suggested as she sat back down and poured herself another shot. She had many detractors, but none could say that she couldn’t hold her liquor.

 

Albus chuckled. “I suppose that’s one way, my dear.”

 

Albus sat down in the love seat across from Euphie and patted the empty space on the cushion as a cue for Fleamont to take the seat next to him. Not prepared to open himself up to his wife’s teasing, Fleamont rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics and sat in an empty chair next to Thaddeus.

 

Judging by the pungent stench, his brother-in-law had already imbibed a considerable amount. He was prudent enough not to pour himself another glass but apparently, could not exercise the same amount of common sense when it came to deciding whether or not to open his mouth.

 

“What do ye ‘ave to say, Dumby?”

 

_Oh dear Merlin..._

 

Thaddeus wasn’t completely sloshed yet, he’d only been here twenty minutes after all, but firewhiskey worked fast and Thaddeus could never hold his liquor. He was already slipping into his West Country accent that he usually tried to contain. Using the insipid nickname that Carrow thought up certainly didn’t help matters either.

 

Albus put on an offended look, but he knew that he was amused at Thaddeus’ uncharacteristic lack of control. “Can one not simply want to catch up with old friends?”

 

_Oh come now...Being coy doesn’t suit you, Albus..._

 

Thaddeus’ eyes narrowed in suspicion.“Yer no friend o’ mine. Never ‘ave been.”

 

“I beg to differ. We just have not been in regular correspondence, have we?” Albus seldom smirked, but he did now. Such an expression looked foreign on his friend’s face and seeing it unsettled Fleamont.

 

Thaddeus paled. Even when drunk, he was sharp enough and must have picked up an insinuation in Albus’ words.

 

He stood up and glared at Albus. “What do ye think yer gettin’ at?”

 

He gave an innocent look back. “Nothing...nothing. You are simply too prickly, Thaddeus.” He chuckled.

 

Thaddeus got red in the face and shifted his stance. Fleamont’s hand inched towards his wand holster in case intervention was necessary.

 

Sensing trouble, Euphie got up and wrapped her arm around her brother’s shoulders. “Come on, Tad. We’ve gotten a few new volumes in the library and I always wanted to test out your thesis that ‘books and alcohol don’t mix’.”

 

Thaddeus grumbled but let Euphie drag him out of the room after he gave a short nod to Fleamont. He gave them both a grateful look before turning back to Albus.

 

“I’d apologize for his behavior, but you did want to talk to him.”

 

Albus smiled. “You don’t have to remind me. Besides, I find that apologizing for the behavior of others is usually a useless endeavor.”

 

_Yet we do it far too often..._

 

Fleamont sighed. “Can I offer you a drink?”

 

“No.” He shook his head and lightly patted his long beard. “Thank you, Flea, but I require a clear head for later in the day.”

 

Fleamont nodded in understanding. “Would you like to meet Charlus, then?”

 

Albus demeanor brightened considerably. “Of course. Lead on.”

 

It felt odd to lead his friend around his home. He spent so much time in Albus’ home during the summer months of their childhood that he often forgot that he never got the chance to show his friend his own home. When he visited before, they usually stayed in the study. It never occurred to Fleamont that he had yet to properly give Albus a tour of the cottage. He wasn’t quite sure how he managed to forget, given his father’s hostility towards the Dumbledores

 

“Does Titus know he’s a grandfather?” Albus’ eyes shone with concern.

 

Fleamont felt an unbidden sneer form on his face. “He knows. If he got his letter at all, that is. The guards at Azkaban are hardly reliable.”

“My sympathies.” Normally such words drew Fleamont’s ire, but Albus’ own father, Percival, had died in Azkaban years ago. If anyone could possibly sympathize, it was him.

 

They spent the rest of the short walk to the nursery in silence ruminating upon the faults of their fathers.

 

Fleamont loved his father and he knew that his father loved him in return. Albeit, in his own way. He couldn’t deny that some of his behavior frightened and sickened him as a boy. His father was never a kind man and he made a point to belittle him at every opportunity. He realized now that his father was only trying to toughen him up, but he hardly appreciated his methods at the time.

 

He was always a bit too cruel for Fleamont’s taste. Not that there were any muggles left alive to attest to that, but it was true all the same. He didn’t understand why his father enjoyed hunting the vermin so much at the time; It hardly seemed sporting given that the poor sods didn’t even have a lick of magic to defend themselves.

 

_After Ariana, however..._

 

Muggles didn’t need magic to perform foul acts and perversions. They did just fine without it. Albus’ father found the muggles that attacked Ariana but didn’t have the stomach to finish the job before he was caught. Fleamont rectified that error. Some of Fleamont’s fellows would claim that they’re animals.

 

 _No...no...They’re human..._ _There’s no doubt about that…_

 

His father always said they sounded like bleating sheep when he cut them up. Gaius still attests that they sound like squealing pigs, but he was never very bright.

 

_He may be my cousin, but he’s still a Goyle…_

 

They always sounded like people to Fleamont, They bled the same blood, screamed the same screams, and plead the same pleas. They were like queer imitations of wizards, empty shells bereft of the very essence that made life worthwhile. His father thought that they were abominations to be purged, but he only looked at the surface and saw what he wanted to see. He was always too arrogant and it got him caught in the end.

 

Albus’ face fell slightly and stopped his off-key humming as they passed the threshold of the nursery. “It’s a precious thing when one realizes just how fragile our lives truly are, isn’t it? Precious, but truly terrifying.” His gaze was directed at a sleeping Charlus as he spoke.

 

“It is.”

 

Charlus looked perfectly peaceful as they approached. Fleamont watched Albus’ smile become tinged with sadness as he looked down on Charlus. “You have a fine looking child, though I’m rather disappointed that he didn’t get Euphie’s hair. Never enough red-heads, you see...”

 

Fleamont thought he knew what his friend was lamenting and tried to make light of it. “Isn’t it about time to get started on your own heir, Albus?”

 

The question startled his friend out of his trance and a teasing smile found its way back onto his face. “I’ve been looking for the right witch, but, alas, I have yet to find her.”

 

_And you never will…_

 

Fleamont didn’t understand him. He knew he was gay. Albus knew that he knew, yet refused to openly acknowledge it. He’d joke about it, but never blatantly say anything.

 

Fleamont let out a frustrated sigh. They stood over the crib for a few more moments before Albus broke the silence.

 

“I ought to get back, Flea. I have a meeting with Dippet later and I’d prefer to have enough energy to stay awake for the duration of it.”

 

His words startled a genuine laugh out of him. Albus was usually very respectful of the new Headmaster considering how favorably he compared to the previous one, but even he had to admit that Dippet inspired sleep more than any academic virtue.

 

Fleamont nodded in response and escorted him back to his study as they fell into a comfortable silence. Things had been rather tense between them lately and he was pleased that Albus still felt at ease around him.

 

“Off to your calling then?”, Fleamont asked as they reached the mantel.

 

“Young minds always need to be filled with knowledge.”

 

Fleamont smirked. “And platitudes, Albus. Don’t forget the platitudes.”

 

He beamed. “Never.” With that word, he was gone in a burst of green flames that left a slight breeze reverberating through the room.

 

The smirk never left his face as he went to find Thaddeus and Euphie. They were not hard to find given that they had apparently never left the library. Thaddeus was hunched over one of the few books that he hadn’t already read cover to cover and Euphie looked as if she’d keel over any time now from sheer boredom.

 

_I best rescue her…_

 

Fleamont took a seat at the table, getting Euphie’s attention. Thaddeus, however, did not acknowledge his arrival and remained focused on his reading. After it became apparent that he wasn’t going to be separated from the book by his own volition, Fleamont slammed his hand hard on the table.

 

Thaddeus jerked his head up and glared. “Ye could ‘ave just said hello.” His eyes were bloodshot and he looked as if he’d been trampled by a hippogriff.

 

Fleamont chuckled. “That wouldn’t have been nearly as fun.”

 

Euphie got up, obviously excited that her ‘babysitting’ stint was over. “Not that this hasn’t been great bonding time, Tad, but I’ve tired of watching you try to read the same paragraph for minutes on end. I’ll be flying in the field. This good weather won’t last...” She trailed off as she left the room, clearly glad to escape the library.

 

Although not as erudite as her brother, Euphie was nothing if not observant and Fleamont caught something that gave him pause.

 

“The same paragraph?”

 

Thaddeus looked back down at the book intently. “I seem to ‘ave proved my theory correct. Alcohol and books do not mix.”

 

He sighed as he returned his gaze to Fleamont. “He knows summat, Flea.”

 

“Albus?” Fleamont supposed that it was possible, but he doubted that he would have remained so amiable if that was the case. “What makes you say that?”

 

Thaddeus pulled a worn letter from the insides of his outer robe. “He said that we weren’t in ‘regular correspondence’. He said tha’ like he knew.” He held the letter up at eye level so Fleamont could get a better look at it.

 

The envelope was in a horrible state and had various stains from ink, water, and blood peppering its frayed parchment. Fleamont could barely make out the mark on its surface. “How many hands has this gone through?”

 

Thaddeus shrugged as he handed it over. “Enough.”

 

He gingerly took it from him and opened it to reveal a blank piece of parchment that was pristine and untouched by the stains that afflicted the envelope.

 

_It’s been so long without word…_

 

He must have been staring too long, as he heard Thaddeus clear his throat.

 

His friend smiled. “ ‘ave you forgot how or are ye going to sniff it for perfume?”

 

Fleamont glared at him while hooking his leg under Thaddeus’ chair and pulling it out from under him. He felt distinct satisfaction at his friend’s pained grunt and reached around his neck to pull his pendant out from under his robes and over his head.

 

He relished the feeling of the silver chain over his fingers. He seldom removed it, as so long as it was around his neck it remained invisible to the dissolute who denied the inevitable. His fingers grasped the pendant itself which bore the mark of the hallows and shakily pressed it to the bottom right of the ‘blank’ parchment with barely contained excitement.

 

As soon as the metal touched the paper, words began to appear in black swirls, chicken scratch, and flowing prose. Text written by hundreds of different hands and several languages wrote itself at a rapid pace and disappeared just as quickly. It took a few minutes for the enchantment to decide what words were meant for him. He smiled when a familiar ordered script scrawled across the parchment.

 

_**Fleamont,** _

 

_**They could not contain me, but you will have no doubt heard of the incompetence of the Americans** _

 

_**by now. We must meet to coordinate our plans for the future. I do not yet know where or when, but it** _

 

_**will be soon. Much has transpired and our methods must change accordingly. Subterfuge cannot be** _

 

_**the only weapon any longer. The old way of thinking is too ingrained and at this rate, it will take too** _

 

_**long to make others see the natural order of things. Keep your true allegiance close to your chest,** _

 

_**answer my summons, and all will be clear soon. You must be vigilant, Floh. The political climate is** _

 

_**delicate, but it might be the opening that you and your little group have been waiting for. I look** _

 

_**forward to seeing you in person, my friend, but we must tread carefully. You never know who is** _

 

_**watching.** _

 

_**Für Immer dein Kamerad,** _

 

_**-Gellert** _

 

 

He looked up from the letter to find Thaddeus smirking at him. “Is it time?”

 

Fleamont only took a brief moment of consideration before nodding. “It is. We’ll move our plans forward and inform the covenant of recent developments.”

 

They both sat in silence for a few moments processing the fact that years of planning may finally be coming to fruition. Fleamont couldn’t help but smile with an excitement that he hadn’t felt in years.

 

Judging by the gleam in Thaddeus’ eyes, he felt the same. “For the Greater Good.” Thaddeus’ smirk morphed into a smile as he extended his arm.

 

Fleamont gripped his friend’s forearm firmly and met his eyes. “For the Greater Good.”

 


End file.
